Can You See My Sufferings?
by Ice Cold Water
Summary: Partner fic with Breathless. Arthur's life was miserable; everyone loathed him and his friends were just imaginary. So standing on the rooftop, he braced himself for his fall. Meanwhile, mysterious connections unfold as the others race for his rescue. Could they save him in time or will he die again?
1. Sept 19 (I)

_Summary: Partner fic with Breathless. Arthur's life was a mess. His father loathed him, his classmates taunted him, his bullies were killing him and his friends were just imaginary. He has nothing to live for. And he wanted it to end. Climbing to the roof, he contemplates. Will he or will he not? He knew._

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or its characters**

 **Warning(s):** _Unbetaed, mild swearing, character death, angst and suicide (attempt)_

Chapter X: Route I

 _Date: September 19, 20XX, Monday_

 _Location: Hetalia World Academy, Rooftop,_

 _Time: 4:55pm_

Arthur propped his elbows down on a loosely hanged chain, squeaking as it was swung back and forth due to an additional weight, and looked down to observed what was beneath him.

The football team were practicing on the grounds, preparing for their next tournament on the coming weekend, and it was shown on each players' faces that there was a burning passion—excitement—lingering behind those eyes that were serious and trained to look at the battle field. Arthur knew it was because they were chosen to represent the whole city and held pride upon it as they were as honored, and shook his head without any surprise from the team.

After all, their football team were the best among the division, often chosen to compete on either regional or national competitions and because of that, they were always practicing.

And Arthur keeps on watching them not because his father's cousin's son, Alfred—the jock, the idiot, the self-proclaimed hero ("then why couldn't he save me?")— was there, but because they had once tried to ask him for funds for both transportation and food supplies.

He was suspicious of the request because the vehicles that would be used would be paid by the school, not the club, and second, there were too many buffoons hanging on the team (a few were known to be swindlers) and last, he knew how to take precautions specially that he held regard of his self-policy that trust was a fragile thing and once broken, it can never be the same.

So he didn't heed to grant their wishes that easily and 'talked' to them it was still on process due to 'high maintenance security managing' it has to undergo to when in fact, he just threw it on the deepest part of the council office where he disposes any other useless requests.

He knew he was going to be in big trouble once they found out about it, but Arthur no longer cared.

Particularly, he no longer cared if they would suddenly barge into his office demanding the funds and such, nor does no longer care if they would try to lash their anger on him, kicking and beating him until they had enough.

He no longer cared if his so-ever-kindly father would be left alone on a cold lonely apartment (besides his father was too much of a bas** to at least realize that), as he no longer cared if he suddenly jumped off the roof, ending his short, cruel yet youthful life without saying any goodbyes or writing any suicidal notes because now, Arthur had _enough_.

He doesn't care if people would blame themselves for his loss, because they are.

They were the ones who broke him, beating him useless and cold on the floor and made fun of his 'imaginary friends'—Robin Good fellow, Unicorn, Brownie, Pixie and Oliver—just to name a few. They were the ones who had judged him. Hurt him.

He wanted them to stop, but the monsters were unremorseful, and threatened him when he retaliated. There's nothing he could do.

The world was too perfect for him to live. And he can no longer take it.

He was beyond his breaking point. One more move and he'll break.

Though on the second thought, he really needs a break; a long and permanent break.

Away from his bullies, his father, from everybody and from the world.

Yes, he needed that. And perhaps he would try it.

Even the sky—his one and only ally—agrees with him, weeping as if it knows his sadness and the dark, shady clouds matched his mood. The loud cry of thunder voiced out his agony, like a lion running rampage in order to be free.

It reminded the dirty blond of his home where he used to live before he and his father moved out to live in the city. It made him feel calm and cool as the rain soothed his usual hot head he got from his— _No!_

Arthur shook his head, stopping daydreams to escalate any further. He needed his plan to commence quickly and focus on the task otherwise they would find out where he is. And having people present on his death was not in his plan (they might ruin the fun). Focusing his vision back on the ground, he contemplated, but determined to get this over with.

 _Come on Arthur you could do it!_ He said in his mind, lifting up the chains so he could pass through. A few more steps and then everybody will be happy.

Slowly, he shifts his feet forward and forward, alternating every step, until a foot reached the air no longer feel the cement, but the thin air (the one he would stop using soon). Arthur, despite the bead of seat rolling down from his forehead, smiled albeit bitterly.

This was it. This was his end. The pitiful tale of Arthur Avalon finally has come to its dreadful ending. Arthur took a deep breath, bracing himself and mentally bidding the ones he loved his last farewell. They might not know he was already here, going to die, but at least the hindrance will soon disappear.

With one push forward, he began to fall, his blond locks flowing the opposing way as he was, and shut his eyes before the cold, unforgiving ground extended its arms to welcome him in path of oblivion before everything went blissfully blank.

(Coincidentally, the insane chuckle faded at the back of his head and cried out in despair as the corners of the blonde's lips twitched and smiled).

" **I got you now…"**

 _September 20, 20XX_

 _News: At exactly 5 in the afternoon in the HWA, a freshman student named, Arthur Avalon, plummet to his death after jumping off the roof with seven floors. The cause of death was severe trauma and concussion due to the impact received after falling head first._

"I hope you're happy now, Arthur..."

* * *

 _Tries: 17_

* * *

 _I changed it a bit..._


	2. Sept 20 (I)

_Summary:_ _Partner fic with Breathless. Arthur's life was a mess. His father loathed him, his classmates taunted him, his bullies were killing him and his friends were just imaginary. He has nothing to live for. And he wanted it to end. Climbing to the roof, he contemplates. Will he or will he not? He knew._

 **Disclaimer:** _I don't own Hetalia or its characters_

 **Warning(s): Unbetaed, mild swearing, character death, angst, unorthodox events, time travelling and suicide**

Chapter X: September 20

 _Date: September 20, 20XX_

 _Location: Hetalia World Academy, Grounds_

 _Time: Between 7 to 7:30 am_

"Arthur Avalon is dead"

Blunt, hurting and grieving words resounded throughout the empty hallways as it was slowly delivered. Thunder roared within the gray canvas of clouds, depicting the melancholic and mourning state of the day (which was very unfortunate as it added to how they should feel).

The students had gathered on the ground, monochromatic umbrellas present on their hands, and were silent as opposed to their usual flamboyant behavior. Some casted their eyes down upon hearing the statement, obviously contemplating about something in life, while others secretly wished that the headmaster would end this grieving torture already and have them sent back to their rooms.

Yet Romulus stood on the central podium, hands tightly gripped on its corners, as he gauges their reactions. His eyes were shadowed by his hair and his orbs were as dark as the weather that day, and waited for about a minute for them to digest what he just said.

"I know that some of you heard about this on the news earlier and I would like to confirm to you that it was indeed true," Romulus said to them. "We lost one of our dear students yesterday."

Romulus then paused again, shaking a bit as if he has a bad cold, and continued. "There were a few people (namely the football team) who saw him jumping down to his death—possibly plummeted to the ground— that rushed towards him to help the poor child. Too bad, it was already late. He was gone."

Alfred winced at the sudden mention and bit his lip. He casted his vision down onto his shifting feet as he recalled that horrendous experience the day prior. The fall of the blond was surreal, like a dream, a fantasy and a fiction. It happened only in fleeting moments, before someone could grasp the sudden motion and then, bam! It had happened.

His father's cousin's son was lying on his own pool of blood, like a puppet out of its strings, on the cold empty cement, lonely and alone.

Alfred considered himself as a hero, often exclaiming that he would save everybody. But after the events that transcended yesterday, he berates himself for being such a childish and selfish (delirious) person.

He wasn't a hero—he was a _murderer_.

He murdered Arthur by being selfish and immature twat. He didn't heed to what the Briton was saying, but kept on demanding and demanding on him. Alfred wanted Arthur to listen to him that he didn't allow Arthur to speak. To ask him for help. And in the end, it was only this time the American noticed his errors. How stupendous of him.

"Ironically," Romulus' word snapped Alfred from his reverie and the Alfred shifted his feet again. "It was only when he died did help arrived and not when he was still alive and asking. I don't understand why a person would do that—helping if it was already too late—when he had the time of the world to help Arthur fix himself before he broke himself. I don't know if this man was just selfish, heartless or was afraid because Arthur was malice.

"If he was, was he afraid of being a stepping stone on the bottom of the social ladder? Well, this is what I want to tell you; screw that worthless ladder! It wasn't any significant compared to a person's life. It wouldn't kill you if you didn't climb up, but your ignorance could kill a person." Romulus' slammed the podium in anger, causing the students to flinch. It wasn't every day you would see an angry headmaster and it wasn't good either.

Francis reflected on the words Romulus just released. The social ladder, ignorance, and cowardliness; they define who Francis was. The headmaster caught spot on his character and took it as a spear to stab him in the heart.

The reality between Francis and Arthur was exactly like that. Francis was Arthur's enemy and Arthur was his. That was how their relationship works. The friend and enemy status between them often conflicts Francis to help the poor lad from the grasps of his bullies and the likes of them.

Yes, Francis knew who Arthur's bullies were, but he didn't have the spine to spell it out. He just watched him from afar, pitying him as the Briton was being beaten up from head to toe, leaving him out cold. He noticed how black and violet his bruises are, but never spoke about it for he thinks Arthur would abhor him for doing so.

After all, Arthur was a prideful man. He didn't want others to help him because he wanted to show to everybody he was strong.

And he did. Arthur was able to fool Francis into believing that kind of lie.

Yet, in the process, he was breaking himself. Arthur was deceiving himself that he could do this. That he could forever lie to himself. Francis internally punched himself for his idiocy and stepped on his foot.

If only he helped Arthur, he would hear his (irritating) voice till now.

If only he helped Arthur, the Briton would still be with him.

If only he helped Arthur, the hot-headed man would still be alive.

If only...but he did not.

" _Mon Dieu,_ what have I done?" Francis whispered to himself as he buried his face with his hand. Gilbert held the umbrella for his crying friend and watched him quietly—a trait that doesn't fit the red eyed man.

"Better yet, why won't I tell you a bit about Arthur" Romulus eased a little but his hands were still tightly gripped on corner and was turning pale. He looked at his students again and found a few regretting their actions. "When Arthur was still four, his parents divorced and went to live with his dad, who was a newspaper editor.

"When he was five, he was left alone in the house and was taught how to fend himself. It was also the time his rabbit had died. When he was seven, his father came back home, drunk, and received his first beating. When he turned eight, it became his father's daily routine and turned him into a punching bag. Ten years old, when he was diagnosed to be delirious and eleven when he was starved almost to death.

"He was thirteen when he enrolled here and saw at least a ray of light. He was also thirteen when bullying became worse and was subjected to be discriminated by others. Fourteen, when he attempted to suicide for the fifth time and right now, fifteen, when he succeeded in it."

"Now that you knew how Arthur lived a harsh and cruel life beyond his years," Romulus took a sharp breath intake. "I hope you realized the hardship he had gone through and how he struggled to overcome it. Thus, I wanted you to realize the mistakes you did in the past in order not to repeat it in the future.

"But of course, even if I told you this, some still wouldn't understand the value of life and find another victim to terrorize. Well then go ahead. You can do whatever you want—kill, curse and bully others—but remember, it could _never_ erase what you did in the past. It will haunt you, bother you, until the end of time and have it engraved on your memories forever"

Romulus finished his speech and covered his eyes with handkerchief as he could feel tears rolling down. He haven't felt this way since his first grandson disappeared or when his daughter did and it felt painful. And he felt...weak. He turned back to his students and gave them a last, bitter smile.

"That's all; class dismissed!" And with that, he disappeared from the stage.

* * *

 _43_

* * *

 _Well that was depressing. The tone of the story was more on angst than hurt/ comfort and it probably made some of you sad (yes it was a bad start). Though, it won't continue to do so; this was just one of the saddest outcome the story could get if you made the wrong choice and don't worry I'll have them save Arthur soon._


	3. Sept 20 (I)(II)

_Summary: Arthur's life was miserable; everyone loathed him and his friends were just imaginary. So standing on the rooftop, he braced himself for his fall. Meanwhile, mysterious connections unfold as the others race for his rescue. Could they save him in time or will he die again?_

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Hetalia or its characters

 **Warning (s): Unbetaed, Suicide, character death (attempt), drama, time travelling, confusing family tree, depressed! Characters**

Chapter X: September 20 (I)(II)

 _Date: September 20, 20XX_

 _Location: Somewhere within the school_

 _Time: A few hours later after the announcement_

It was not supposed to be like this.

The lad-the fragile, breakable freshman-shouldn't be in a white porcelain box, looking extremely peaceful despite the broken face, while they were watching him, grieving for his sudden departure.

Arthur's smile was serene as if the weight of the world has lifted. It was a nice change if it wasn't because of the situation.

Lukas and Vladimir were watching from a distance, silently participating in the memorial service. They sat at the back; flowers twined to their finger as they grasp it tightly as they mutter curses in their native languages incoherently.

"Lukas do you think Arthur...has a reason for this?" the Romanian asked, internally growling at the cruel turn of events. He looked to the blonde's usual dull eyes that now displaced a hint of emptiness.

The Norwegian stared back and nodded. "Knowing Arthur, he was a self-proclaimed gentleman. He wouldn't so something drastic if there were no reasons to. Something must have prompted him if so"

"Someone?"

Vlad blinked. Was Lukas saying Arthur killed himself because of someone?

"The Scottish senior" was the other's reply.

"Y-You mean Alistair?!" Vlad spluttered, obviously shocked. He quickly swiveled his head left to right and saw a few people glancing at him weirdly. He gave them an apologetic smile, bowing sincerely but not before he checked if any of the Scot's siblings or he was present. Fortunately, there were none.

He turned his attention back to Lukas and his answer. Lukas was telling him Alistair was the bane of Arthur's existence is still a little far-fetched. As far as he knew, Alistair was a star student and wouldn't commit such transversely. Still, there was a possibility.

"Apparently, I saw him bullying Arthur once during one of my deaths ***%**. Poor Arthur, being beaten black and blue by having him fall downstairs"

Lukas grimaced at the memory. If he remembered correctly, it was when Arthur tried to fight the Scot by throwing a bucket containing solid cement. But due to his poor precision, it had missed his target and fell on Lukas instead ***^** resulting to a sudden death. Worse of all, he died in front of Mathias. Again.

"Sh#, I can't believe I fell for the rumors" The Romanian gripped the pew imperviously until his knuckle turned white and breath quickly. His eyes narrowed from the mention and his canine tooth showed when he growled. "When I see that Scot again, I'm going to kill him!"

"Hold on a minute Vlad," Lukas said calmly. "Do you still have that spell?"

"What spell? The one that could...why would you want that?" the brunet tilted his head, perplexed as to why Lukas would brought that topic.

"I know a perfect plan to get him from what he did to Arthur"

"Well, spill it"

"We'll cast that spell to Alistair in a situation he never expected"

A crook smile appeared from the Romanian's face as he listens carefully to Lukas' plan. He knew Lukas was a bit sadistic when it comes on selected options, but this...was the greatest one he got. Gingerly, Vlad grinned widely. Oh he likes the plan!

"So when will we initiate the plan?" he asked him, excitedly.

"Patience, Vladimir-we'll have it in due time" Lukas smirked, not even bothering that he called Vlad with his full name. Together they stood up and exited the room with new found determination on their heads.

They used to be a trio with the Briton, but after what happened, they aren't sure if they should change the group name because it hurts to. Still, that doesn't mean they cannot perform spells well. If anything, they will make this their greatest just for Arthur. Yes, Arthur will get his revenge.

* * *

"Alfred, will you stop crying?"

Matthew Williams face palmed as he watched his step brother cry his eyes out. It has been two hours since Alfred started crying, eyes clouded as he rolls on the bed, grieving tremendously. Matthew knew Alfred was one of the people affected by the Briton's death, but still it wasn't supposed to be a reason for him to distract Matthew with his assignment.

"Alfred" he called again in distraught. He shook his head, sighing and stood up to approach his brother. Matthew went on the bedside, shaking Alfred on the side when Matthew saw him bury his face in the pillow. "Alfred, you'll die if you continue burying your face deeper in that pillow"

There was a groan and then a sob. Alfred shifted from his position, taking the pillow off and rolled his orbs to his brother. Matthew gasped at the sight. The American's eyes were blood shot red, sore from crying for hours. It was a horrendous sight for someone whom you expected to be optimistic.

Alfred sat up, sobbing and tried to force a smile but failed miserably. "W-What's up, M-Mattie?"

"You look terrible" Matthew could feel his jaw hanging from shock. His eyes trailed to Alfred's appearance and it doesn't seemed good.

"I know-it sucks right?" Alfred scratched the back of his head, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry"

There was a short silence afterwards. Alfred fiddled with his fingers, oddly fascinated on how it intertwine with the other as he was not able to carry the awkwardness. Matthew, on the other hand, kept glancing at him with a worried face.

Oh Alfred, Matthew thought, sighing as he watched him. I wish I can do something to help you

The silence lasted for a while until that is, broken by a sobbing Alfred. "H-Hey Mattie, what do you think o-of A-Arthur?" he asked, hiccupping.

"Of Arthur?" Matthew blinked. "Well he's a hot headed man with a prideful persona. He was often stubborn when it comes to accepting somebody's help and shun them down almost all the time. Though, I think, it was all a façade to conceal his soft interior-a loving and gentle side"

"Y-You think so?"

Matthew hummed in reply, nodding ever so slowly. The conversation then died and there was a short silence as well. The sound of the ticking clock was the only sound evident other than the American's sobs.

"Umm...do you need a glass of water?" The Canadian managed to spoke despite of his loss of words. When Alfred faintly nodded, he got up from the bed to the kitchen to get what was asked. He took a glass from the cupboard, filled it in half and grabbed some crackers before he went back.

However, the glass wasn't able to reached Alfred as Matthew accidentally loose his grip, mouth hanging once again and his eyes widening. A resounded crack filled the room, sadly, no one paid heed for the attention was to the gleaming object.

"For the love of maple, put that down!"

He cried out, dashing to his brother who held the object tightly, pointed sharply to his brother's throat. Alfred ignored him and clutched the scissors more, prepping his arms to strike. Matthew gulped and rolled his eyes to the nearest object-which is a pillow-and threw it square to the other blonde's face in panic.

It effectively hit him, causing him to fall down to his bed giving the Canadian a momentary break to wrestle the scissors out of his hand. He immediately grasped his hand, uncurling Alfred fingers from the object. It was hard as Alfred sat up again and tried to push him out only to be defeated by Matthew's resolve.

No one can cripple the school's Hockey King when his resolve is burning, after all.

Once out of his hand, Matthew threw it on he farthest corner of the room and blocked the American if he attempts to get it back. He tackled Alfred to the bed, growling and didn't restrain himself to deliver a slap to his brother's cheek.

"What the heck are you thinking, Al?! You almost killed yourself" he exclaimed in both anger and sadness. He let go of his brother's collar and wiped his eyes as tears are threatening to fall. "Why?"

"Arthur's dead and it's because of me" Alfred averted his eyes, rolling from his violet ones. "So why wouldn't I want to kill myself?"

"Because you are being completely unreasonable"

"But I was the one who killed-

"Doesn't mean you could throw your life like that" Matthew interrupted his brother, sobbing as he continues to wipe his tears. He cupped Alfred face with his hands and forced him to come face to face with Matthew. "That doesn't mean you could leave me"

Alfred listened to his brother's quivering voice. "Mattie..."

"Listen Alfred, no one is blaming you for his death. Mom, dad, our classmates, teachers and even I don't hate you. They-we-love you, Al. Every time you got a problem, we're always be there for you, because it hurts to see you crying, sad and even broken. It affects us all...so please stop" he paused to breath and then continued.

"Heck, if anything, I should be the one committing suicide. No one notice me after all. No one would miss me if I suddenly disappear from the face of the world or if I was sent to another dimension. But you, Al, everyone would miss you-you're the one they want. They need you...unlike me"

The last two words were delivered incoherently yet it was enough for Alfred to understand what he was trying to say. Gradually, his arms snaked around Matthew's waist and pulled him in a hug. He let Matthew bury his head on his chest before Alfred leans closer to his ears.

"Matthew, I...you're important too" he whispered. "If it wasn't for you, I won't be able to live my life through, but most importantly I would have been dead by now if you didn't meddled. So don't think like that"

"I know, Al, I know" his brother whispered back, voice muffled as Mattie leans on the fabric of his shirt. "Therefore, if you can no longer live because of Arthur, then you can live for met"

"Y-Yeah, I'll remember that"

"And if you're too engrossed with Arthur's death so much, why won't we try investigating for it. After all, he didn't leave any notes behind to tell us who should be blamed for, eh"

Alfred looked at him in surprised. "Really? But I thought you hate..."

"I didn't say I hate it," Matthew shook his head. "I said you should stop moping and start searching. In fact why don't we start tomorrow, eh?"

"Oh Mattie..." a smile crept on Alfred's face. He gave him another tight squeeze of hug, nuzzling him affectionately. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Geez Al, you're squeezing me too tight"

Alfred heard him and loosened the hug but didn't let go. "Hey Mattie could you bake some pancakes as well? I'm starving"

Things I do for Alfred, Matthew sighed but smiled. He went to the kitchen to make some pancakes for dinner, but not before commanding Alfred to sit on the dining room so that he could monitor him. The polar bear nudged him in the leg and the Canadian gave it a small smile.

"You're hungry aren't you, Kumachika?" he said.

The bear looked at him, puzzled. "Who are you?"

"I'm Matthew, your owner"

* * *

 _And here's chapter three. The chapter today focuses mostly on Alfred and Matthew, trying to comfort each other due to their burdens. I personally think this is one of their bonding moments together even if they're America and Canada when off screen because being popular and large countries have its downfall as well. Thus, what better way for the story to move is drama, eh._

 _As for both Lukas and Vladimir, I randomly threw them in for them to curse a certain Scot. Speaking of which, he and his siblings would probably appear on the next chapter if time permits. After all, there would be a three days examination period coming this week and I might not be able to update this, especially Breathless. Though, on the other hand, I already started that one. So then, I hope you enjoyed this._

 ***%** \- Apparently, Lukas trust Vladimir of his secret. He tells him about his death and the mysterious trigger that might have been triggering it, as he is a part of the Magic Trio. Since Vladimir believes in this things, he does not find Lukas bonkers or absolutely insane even though he can _not_ see the Norwegian die. For him, there are reasons why things are moving exactly like that.

 ***^** -Refer to the six chapter of Breathless wherein Mathias was asking about Lukas' blood. It was implied that Lukas has died _before_ the chapter begun and the cause of death was visibly unknown. What was mentioned here is that Arthur accidentally (and unknowingly) killed Lukas when he threw the bucket of cement though he didn't know it was Lukas that the bucket hit for it fell down a few flight of stairs below.


	4. Interlude: Clue No I

_Not really an actual chapter, but a vital clue in Arthur's story. This not-so-happy information contains one of the four cores that holds the mystery in its place. Without solving this, you might not understand why things are often different in each installation. Thus, this serves as a major foreshadowing for a particular character. Oh, don't forget to vote on the poll later, okay?_

 **Disclaimer:** _As much as I want to make this canon, I don't own Hetalia_

 **Warning (s): Self-harm, suicide, character deaths, endless, unorthodox theories, depressed!characters**

 **LOsT iN TiMe**

It was such a wishful thought to believe that things could still change. The gruesome details from the canvases' endings were different, some were not that luminous but held an aura of great splendor, yet the finest part that made it similar to the rest are the strokes and smudges of unforgiving red on the subject.

There were lots of red on every object (the roses, the roofs, the blood and their bonds) that one would mistake the painter as a red fanatic person, and to say the truth, per se, is not that away from what is believed. Fate actually dictated him to choose the color as a closure for his never ending suffering.

It told him to play his best music while waltzing in a slow paced dance of a lively festival as his mind wanders to the very depth of details that he could think off, and have the tip of his brush paints everything he thought off. Granted, he has been living the nightmare for approximately ten years now.

How could it possibly be hard to paint it?

The answer is: very.

Despite of him memorized the scenes, he could not bring forth himself to recreate the tragedy that has been haunting him ever since. The shadow of his past over shadows the one he had saw in the future, thus, making it more difficult to find an escape path from the miserable situation. Don't get him wrong, he loves painting (his brother, even though he barely know him, was a good artist) but he didn't have the strength to go further.

So, what was the best thing he could do? Clutch his pocket watch and hope that the nightmare will change? That it will be resolved through trivial efforts and bitter tears? To say that it will work through the power of friendship?

Nonsense! It was all but nonsense. None of which were able to help him with reverie (but hey, it quite contributed in his mental instability) or helped him ease the problem a bit. It only served him troublesome. The power of friendship wouldn't save you. Only your powers will.

Sadly, he still ought to hope.

To hope that the situation will change. To hope that old relationships will rekindle. To hope that they could be normal again. To hope that they can be a family again.

But sometimes, he felt himself asking, "Is this truly worth the effort? Am I not just wasting my time over this mess?" because there are times where he was already tired from hoping. Nonetheless, he perseveres.

For the sake of the future, for the sake of the past!

Because if he surrenders now, he will fail and when he fails, he will be lying as he once promised to his sister, he will save them all. Even if time goes over and over again.

* * *

 _Short isn't it? My main idea here is to make you readers guess and digest the just read passage to wonder how, when and what on earth was happening in the man's perspective. Was the narrator in the verge of insanity? Or was he slowly giving up? What made him think that the world is full of nightmares? Will this be solved? These are just few of the questions I've been expecting ever since I wrote this, but somehow, I bet no one will question it as let the mystery unravel itself, perhaps. Anyway, I'm half way done with the next chapter and will be posting it sooner or later._

 _And do tell, who do you think was the speaker in the passage? His he related to Arthur, Lukas, Feliciano or Yong Soo? What do you think is this man's powers and why did it triggered him to have a chapter? Comment below and share your thoughts!_


	5. Sept 21 (I)(I)

_The feel when you forgot your username and the fact that I've been stuck with author's blocks for months._

 **Disclaimer:** _I do not own Hetalia and its characters_

 **Warning(s): Refer to the previous warnings. They might help.**

Chapter X: September 21 (I)(I)

 _Date: September 21, 20XX, Wednesday_

 _Location: Hetalia World Academy, Office of the Student Council_

 _Time: 5:12 pm_

When Francis ran his fingers on the old wooden table, it was rough and cold. The careless stains of coffee spills were persistently etched on the wood, silently reminding the French of the limitless effort the Brit threw into each stacks of paper works, the eye bags he had to endure during those overtime nights and the sleep deprived snarls he delivers to him when the upperclassman is in his office, and sighed despondently.

It has been a day after Arthur died and seemingly, he observed, there were few people, if not too many, who were, just like him, suffering from the Brit's death. The football captain, Alfred, was just one of those who left right after Romulus' speech in order to find some time alone and released all his regrets in a crying manner and following him was someone akin to a ghost, calling the American's name as he ran away.

Francis didn't exactly know who left after Alfred and the ghost, and he didn't bother because he too fled from the scene short after. He did see, however, the Kirkland brothers standing meters away from the crowd, under the shade of a tree, whispering to themselves before one of them caught Francis glancing at them and frowned. He looked at the Frenchman at the eye, furrowed his brows and averted his glance as he nudged his brothers to move and leave as well.

During that very short moment of eye contact, Francis realized what was on the other's eyes; it was regret.

He knew that it was not actually a secret that the Kirkland brothers, sans Dylan, hated the Brit with a fiery passion and messes with him in the wicked way as possible. It wasn't really clear as to why and how did Arthur become the object of the suspects' "bullying" or why was Arthur afraid of them. And back then, it was unspoken rule that no one should think twice about leaving them with Arthur in their sessions as they fear of becoming a target as him so no one could really fathom the answer.

(Francis tried but he stopped soon after he got into a relationship.)

Sighing, Francis went back to his reality and leaned against the table. He fished out his phone from his back pocket and scrolled the messages upward after receiving a notification on his long unanswered messages. He first thought it was Gilbert as the albino kept asking him if he was okay or if he wanted to talk all of out, but after seeing a smooch emoji, he grimaced.

He tapped it to open and read the contents:

" _From: Marceline_

 _Hey HoneyBear where are you?! You haven't answered any of my messages since yesterday and I'm worried that the news of that *insert swear word here* affected you as well. I hope you didn't as I know, you also hated that *insert swear word* as much as he called you a frog. Anyway, I need you here NOW. My sassy sister wanted us to go to the mall and I need, like, rescuing from her before she turns me into a loony *insert disgusted emoji* Please reply ASAP, HoneyBear, I need you! *insert smooch emoji*"_

Francis, after reading the whole message, sighed as he swiped a thumb to reply. His eyes trailed from the message he composed before he deleted them to compose a new one that doesn't looked like a cruel reply.

 _ **(First Composition)**_

" _To: Marceline_

 _Will you shut the hell up?! Can't you see I'm suffering right now and all you do is to whine about your sister who wants to drag you to the mall? I mean, can't I have any time for myself? Are you really that selfish? And second, Arthur was never a *insert swear word* to me because Arthur was the best thing I ever saw. So will you f—_

 _ **(Second Composition)**_

" _To: Marceline_

 _Is that so? I didn't really notice, sorry. I was actually quite busy at school today so I think I might not be able to meet you right now. Tonio also wants me to stay after class for some curricular activities, so I'm afraid I might not be able to make it *insert sad emoji*. On a positive note, maybe I might get off the hook tomorrow so I could meet you up and grab a smoothie. Is that a good compensation with you? *insert wink face* See you later!"_

After being slightly been satisfied with his not-to-genuine-reply, he closed his phone and placed it back to his pocket. He already considered dumping the girl in the first place, seemingly because of her cruel nature and thus, forcing him to do things he never wanted, but because her father was of an influential family, he couldn't. One mistake and he could die.

When the Frenchman decided it was time for him to move from his position, he straightened his back and stretched, pulling his arms up in the air. He then started to stretch his legs until before he accidentally knocked over the table and winced at the noise it had produced. He panicked and glanced from left to right, hoping that no one would come out of nowhere, and hurriedly held on the table to flip it back.

That is when he noticed, however, the small paper tucked and neatly folded under the wood of the table.

He gradually took it out and unfolded it, mentally prepping to see what he could see and blinked as he read the contents. It was a receipt from a nearby tea shop called Tea Garden ( **A/N: Forgive me if I accidentally copied an actual shop's name. I didn't do it on purpose)**. Written on the lower upper section of the paper was the date supposing when the visitor visited the shop and Francis' eyes rolled over the name of the cashier man that assisted that person's need and his eyes widened.

" _Dylan?!"_ Immediately, Francis jolted up and made his way outside the office to wherever the Tea Garden was located. He ignored the careless shouts of the prefects to calm down and walked down the stairs where he leaped every fast to sprint out.

He has to confirm it. He has to know if Dylan knew something about Arthur's suicide. After all, the day when the receipt was created was the day before Arthur's death and the funny thing was that

...the time the receipt was created coincides with the time the Brit had died.

* * *

 _Location: Hetalia World Academy, Grounds_

 _Time: After which Francis dashed from the room_

"Hey Mattie, where do you think should we first start looking?" Alfred asked, his arms folded behind his head as he leans on it.

Matthew tried to think for a second. "Well if we think about it, the first sensible place should be on the rooftop but since it was closed down for police investigation, the second thing we have is his office...if it's possible to go there."

True to his words, it seemed like the Brit's office was also subjected for investigation seemingly as to how it may or may not be connected to the dirty blond's death. He already heard rumors even before the classes earlier had started and was nervous because that was the only clue they have left after the rooftop was closed down.

It would be a waste of both opportunity and time for both of them if the authorities did try to hinder people entering Arthur's office, and the fact that Matthew trying to fulfill his promised with his used-to-be-sulking-brother was preventing him from giving up, making it stressful for the Canadian.

Sighing, Matthew blinked as he saw the Frenchman and nudged his brother. "Hmm isn't that Francis? Why was he running like there's something following behind him and distraught?"

"Who knows? A fight and dash for his girlfriend?" Alfred shrugged. "Anyway dude we should get going. The prefects might see us!"

* * *

 _Location: Unknown_

 _Time: Unknown_

"Do you have the pixie wing?"

"Yup"

"How about the Unicorn's tear, you got them?"

"Exactly a half cup"

"Okay then, do you have his hair strand prepped?"

"Fresh and cool from today's shower!"

"Thank you Vladimir for your efforts to get the freshest of the fresh ingredients" Lukas said, internally smirking and held the book closer, reading the procedures.

Vlad gave him a toothy smile. "Of course—it's for Arthur after all!"

The both of them smirked, their faces obscured by shadows and their eyes peeked from their bangs, red. They held the unknown mixture from a beaker and dropped the strand of _his_ hair, saying. "Now it's time to curse a certain Scott"

* * *

 _I had troubles pulling an in character Scotland and his brother here so I can't really much update this frequently, and I'll probably have them appear in the next chapter with Peter and their mother...hopefully._


End file.
